I'm taking a cue from the talented Jennifer. Sometimes, I forget to take stock.
Reading: Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Again. And recently, this NYT article, forwarded to me by Connie.
Eating: Sweet, dappled pears from the local market, where my Canadian flatmate and I walked to last night, in search of fruit, despite fatigue. I wish I had a block of sharp cheddar to accompany this treat, or gorgonzola. And a hot cup of barley tea.
Listening: Camera Obscura and Grizzly Bear.
Thinking: Of yet another farewell dinner tonight. Of the Indonesian meal I will have. Of new friendships and warm farewells. Of the transience of life in this town. Of time, which seems to rush right past me, leaving me dizzy and out of breath. Of friends back home. Of my family, my grandmother. Of the pair of cognac-colored brogues my flatmate had made at Beautiful Shoes. Of Burma. Of the love letter I delivered, from the lovesick Danish girl I met there, who picked wildflowers as she walked along the hillside of Kalaw, to the engineer in Phnom Penh. Of the bird I released, in front of the wat in Yangon, as a customary blessing of luck, and how, as soon as it took flight, a hawk came down and snatched it up. Of the possibility, slowly unfolding in the periphery, that I can enjoy the idea of work, be moved by it, even find meaning in it.